


All the Devils are Here

by Sebars



Series: Hell is Empty [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, PTSD, Past Childhood Abuse, Psychological issues, Slow-building Relationship, Smut, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebars/pseuds/Sebars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stiles goes to the train yard to visit Isaac he doesn’t even make it inside. The second time, he ends up staying for nearly two hours. By the fourth visit, it's time to admit that there's a deeper reason for his visits; he needs this. It's about helping himself just as much as it's about helping Isaac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fascination

**Author's Note:**

> The tags aren't relevant to this chapter I'm afraid. This will be a slow build up to the smut and relationship etc.  
> I was so keen to just post this that I didn't really proof read, so sorry if some things don't read brilliantly or there are any typos.

Stiles has always had a rather morbid fascination with his dad’s cases. He pesters for details on grisly murders, or sneakily looks through photo evidence. Hell, he dragged Scott out into the forest in the middle of the night all to catch a glimpse of a dead body! Stiles pins it all down to natural curiosity, like how when there has been a car accident and you can’t help but to take a peek at the damage. Yet Stiles’ fascination with Isaac has surpassed that normal level of interest. To begin with, he assumes it’s because Isaac is a  _werewolf_ and Stiles has somehow slipped into the role of being researcher for all things werewolf. Then he sees Isaac at the police station. He sees Isaac cowering in the corner, eyes filled with loss and fear and something else…something resigned; as if he accepts that pain or punishment is coming his way. Suddenly, Stiles’ interest becomes something entirely different to morbid fascination.

 

When Scott calls him to tell him about going to Isaac’s house and how there was a freezer with scratch marks and of this  _creature_  that he and Allison saw, Stiles tries not to worry about how his mind lingers on the freezer nearly as much it lingers on the supernatural-lizard-thingy. He stays up until four in the morning that night, researching child abuse. He learns about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and briefly wonders if he has it himself (he still gets nightmares and panic attacks thinking back to the night Derek killed Peter Hale).  He scrubs a hand over his face and notes how his eyes prickle with exhaustion. Victims of child abuse have enough to struggle with; fuck knows what being a freaking  _werewolf_  on top of that will do to you. Before Stiles falls asleep, he decides that he will go visit Isaac, offer some support or at least someone to talk to.

 

The first time Stiles goes to the train yard to visit Isaac he doesn’t even make it inside. He just  _sits_ , pulled up outside the shabby werewolf lair and stares dumbly out of the window. He’s never been friends with Isaac; they’ve never even really been on each other’s  _radar,_  and so he realises how odd it will seem for him to stroll on in with the sole purpose of simply  _talking_  to Isaac. Stiles tries to reason with himself that  _Derek_  is Isaac’s only company, and that Derek certainly won’t be dishing out the heart-to-hearts,  and so Isaac will surely be  _grateful_  for any company that does more than frown and glare. However, Stiles’ body ignores his reasoning, seemingly bound with thick ropes of embarrassment and he can’t bring himself to get out of the jeep. After five painfully long minutes, Stiles restarts his engine and drives off, fully aware that Isaac – with his creepy werewolf powers - would have heard his car pull up and leave.

 

Over the next few days, Stiles’ life is far too chaotic to even consider another attempt at visiting Isaac. The incident in gym where Erica has a seizure, the disastrous semi-double date at the Ice Rink and being knocked out and left in the dumpster all take up time. Not to mention school, lacrosse practice, spending time with his dad and, you know, general  _life_  gets in the way.  To be honest, he mostly forgets about Isaac altogether. Then Scott tells him about the fight at the Ice Rink and that, along with Erica and Boyd, Isaac had been there. Stiles is aware that he should feel some contempt towards Isaac for trying to beat the shit out of his best friend, but hey,  _Isaac_ didn’t break his Jeep and knock him out and  _Isaac_  didn’t charge him an extortionate fifty dollars for a measly key. So, out of Derek’s three new were-puppies, Isaac is the one Stiles is feeling the least hostile towards. Plus, even Scott is aware that Derek is manipulating the betas with promises of power and, apparently, leather jackets. So Stiles decides to take another trip down to the train yard to talk to Isaac. Besides, Scott wants to warn the betas about the lizard creature and all other werewolf-y dangers, so Isaac seems as good a place as any to start.

 

“Hello?” Stiles calls out as he is walking up towards the entrance to the train yard. He figures that if Isaac or Derek is here, they’d have heard him from a while off anyway. “Helloooo? Anybody there? Don’t bite or claw or maim if you are, it’s only me,” Stiles calls out in a sing-song voice before remembering that Scott isn’t exactly best friends with Derek’s pack at the moment so, by extention, Stiles probably isn’t either. “Erm...Stiles. Y’know, your trusty folk lore researcher?” he adds hurriedly, poking his head cautiously through the door of a rusty train cabin. There are blankets and cushions in the corner of the cabin. They form what Stiles assumes is a make-shift bed. He steps further into the cabin to get a better look at the less than glamorous den. His face scrunches when he sees a scruffy pair of converse in the corner next to a backpack. Yep, it looks like Isaac has been living here.

 

“Derek’s not here,” a voice says firmly from behind Stiles, making him jump out of his reverie and spin around, arms flailing dumbly after him.

 

“Oh. Isaac… Hey! Erm…nice place you have here…” Stiles bumbles awkwardly, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against one of the cabin’s walls, trying to look nonchalant. He fails.  Isaac just cocks an eyebrow at him and smirks smugly (a look Stiles has never seen on his face before and instantly dislikes).

 

“What’re you doing here?” Isaac asks, settling down in one of the remaining train seats, legs stretched out languidly. He has the same arrogant air that Erica has adopted post-bite. Stiles wants to roll his eyes but he’s aware that Isaac is able to rip him to pieces in the blink of an eye and he doesn’t fancy waking up in a dumpster again.

 

“I…uh,” Stiles starts, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Then he remembers that he brought a bunch of clothes and toiletries in his bag to use as an ice breaker; an excuse as to why he came to see Isaac. “I thought I’d bring you some stuff, seeing as you’re a fugitive and all,” Stiles answers with a smile, holding up his bag. Isaac forehead creases in confusion and his eyes have a hostile, accusatory glare to them. Stiles sighs dramatically and offers the bag forward to Isaac. “It’s just some old clothes and shampoo and stuff. I figured you couldn’t be seen waltzing into Wal-Mart and, as lovely as this abode is, I can’t imagine Derek being very helpful with stuff like this. I mean, does the guy bathe in the lake or something?” Stiles is running his mouth off again but it visibly reduces the tension in Isaac.

 

“Derek’s my alpha,” Isaac scolds but there is no heat in the words and he gets up and takes the offered bag and starts rummaging through the contents. Stiles scans the cabin while Isaac unpacks the bag.

 

“How are you doing? You know since… since the bite?” Stiles asks nervously.  _God_ , he’s crap at this. You’d think he’d know how to react around someone who’s lost a parent considering he’s gone through the same thing when his mother died. But his mother wasn’t an abusive asshole and this isn’t the only parent Isaac has lost. Isaac just raises one perfectly arched eyebrow at him and damn… the bite has worked well on Isaac as well, not just Erica. Isaac’s skin is perfect; devoid of any teenage blemishes and his jawline looks like something out of a fashion magazine. 

 

“Why are you here, Stiles?” Isaac’s voice is harsh this time and he has stopped unpacking to stare angrily at Stiles. Stiles swallows thickly and gets the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry. He blinks quickly and straightens himself.

 

“Look, I just wanted to do something nice, dude. You’re a fugitive and the police think you killed your  _dad_  man, which is fucked. And you’re living in a train yard and you’re a freaking  _werewolf_  man,  _werewolf_. I figured you could use someone to talk to,”  Stiles blurts out, his hands gesticulating manically before he notices and forces his arms to hang limp by his sides.

 

“I’m a werewolf, Stiles. I can take care of myself. Remember the police station?” Isaac says cockily, flashing his eyes golden and showing a threatening lick of fang. Stiles’ heart speeds up but he doesn’t buy it. He notices how Isaac refuses to look directly at him and how his fingers toy with a loose string on the hem of the Henley he is wearing. Stiles notices all the small behaviours that usually fly right over people’s heads. He notices because he remembers doing the same thing. He remembers how he would deflect with sarcasm and laughter when people asked how he was after his mother’s funeral.  He remembers how no one would notice him nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek while reassuring Scott or his teachers that he was fine. So he pushes on.

 

“Yeah, I get that bu-”

 

“But what?! I would have killed you if Derek hadn’t been there to stop me. You don’t owe me anything so take your pity elsewhere,” Isaac interrupts.  Stiles flinches at the words. He knows how horrid it feels to be pitied. He crosses his arms again and when he speaks it’s in a firmer voice, more sure.

 

“You’re a  _werewolf_. Erica and Boyd are werewolves. My freaking  _best friend_  is a werewolf. And while you all party it up with your good-looks and supernatural strength and playing on the Lacrosse team, I’m here, socially awkward and on Adderall and being…well, being  _Stiles_. I don’t think I’m really in the position to  _pity_. And dude, _Scott_  tried to kill me during his first full moon and then kissed the girl I like. I get it, you guys turn into douches once a month. I’m over it, really. It’s not like you knew what you were doing” Stiles has finally, finally stopped blushing and he puts his hands on his hips with a small smile of triumph when Isaac sits back down in the train chair. 

 

“But… I could have hurt you,” Isaac looks bewildered. His voice is full of shock and confusion, like he doesn’t understand how anyone could ever forgive him. How anyone could ever want to be nice to him without any other agenda and Stiles’ heart aches a little. He wonders why he hasn’t noticed how...well,  _beautiful_  Isaac is before. It can’t be all down to the bite. Isaac must have always had those baby blue eyes, long lashes and slightly crooked smile. Stiles just never really noticed before, which is strange because Stiles is good at noticing beautiful people. He’d noticed Lydia’s beauty before she really grew into it; he’d noticed Scott’s uneven jaw and how it made him oddly charming; he’d noticed (along with the rest of the school) that Jackson could be a model; he’d definitely noticed that Derek had the body of a Greek God. But he’d never really looked at Isaac before, not properly at least. Stiles feels the urge to cry again. Maybe if he  _had_  noticed Isaac, he would have noticed the bruises and the skittish behaviour. Maybe he could have helped.

 

“You didn’t though... And it’s not your fault,” Stiles reassures and the way Isaac looks back at him suggests that Isaac knows he is talking about so much more than what happened at the police station.  Isaac clears his throat and looks down for a second before looking back up with a tentative smile.

 

“Well, thanks for the clothes. You’re right, Derek hasn’t been a great host exactly,” he jokes quietly and Stiles lets out a wild bark of laughter before plonking himself down on the chair opposite Isaac.

 

Stiles ends up staying at the train yard for nearly two hours. They don’t talk about Isaac’s dad much, aside from when Stiles says that he’s sorry to find out about him. He’s unsure if he means he’s sorry that he died or sorry that he was an abusive asshole, so he leaves it to Isaac to interpret it how he wants. They talk about the lizard-creature and what Isaac might do when the charges are dropped ( _“if they are dropped”_  Isaac reminds him). He even manages to get Isaac to laugh with the story about calling Derek ‘Miguel’ to Danny and the strip-tease that ensued. When Stiles walks home (reminding himself to get his jeep fixed) it’s with an extra spring in his step. He tells himself it’s due to doing a good deed and not because of how nice to was to just… _hang out_  with someone, the way he used to with Scott before Allison was on the scene. He tells himself it’s not because of how good Isaac’s laugh - his real laugh, not his cocky huff – sounds. He’s not very convincing.


	2. Façade is a Lovely Word.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time that Stiles visits Isaac, he doesn’t actually plan on it. He just finds himself at the train yard, before he even realises what he is doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I am knackered so there may be a couple of typos. I will go over it later but I just want to get it out now before I keep changing it. Again, no smut or tags applying yet...that's later chapters!

The third time that Stiles visits Isaac, he doesn’t actually plan on it. He just _finds himself_ at the train yard, before he even realises what he is doing. He really doesn’t know how it happens, it just _does_. It’s after the catastrophic string of events that leave him trapped in the school pool, supporting Derek, while the lizard creature ( _Kanima_ , according to Derek) circles them.

 

 _(The_ same _lizard creature that had paralysed Stiles then crushed the life out of the mechanic, while Stiles could do_ nothing _but watch helplessly.)_

 

Stiles finds himself in the school parking lot, alone and still damp. He is _exhausted_. Every muscle in his body is screaming its agony at him and his head is pounding worse than it did the week he tried to stop taking Adderall. But it’s more than that…much more. He’s tired of having his life threatened; he’s tired of seeing the mechanic’s empty, lifeless eyes every time he goes to sleep; he’s _really_ fucking tired of doing _everything_ he possibly can to help Scott, only to be ditched for Allison in return. His mind wonders to how Scott _hung up_ on him tonight and the vile taste of bitterness and resentment seeps into his mouth.  Okay, yeah, _logically_ he knows that Scott had no idea that he was in danger and that Scott was trying to steal the Bestiary when he called, but he can’t help feeling a little bit betrayed. Scott _had_ looked wracked with guilt when Stiles told him how long they’d been in the pool but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to accept when Scott had sheepishly offered to drive him home before he picked up his mom from her shift.  So, he’s stranded, alone and damp in the parking lot. He tries not to let his mind linger on how this feels symbolic.

 

He sets off, walking slowly and dragging his feet along behind him. He _should_ just go home, but his dad is working nights again and, as exhausted as he is, adrenaline is still pumping through his veins and making him too jittery to sleep. He considers going over to Lydia’s house and checking that she’s feeling better now, but Lydia would probably slam the door in his face on a good day, let alone on a day where he ditched her while she cried in her car.

 

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. Lydia is going to be _furious_ with him. He kicks a pebble along the ground and shakes his head, willing himself to stop thinking. It’s only when he looks ahead again that he realises where he is. He looks wildly around in shock for a second, before confirming that, yes, he _is_ on the path to the train yard. He curses again and spins on his heel to start the journey back but freezes midway. He’s _still_ feeling bitter and it’s not like he can rant to his dad about what’s going on. Why not go and talk to Isaac? He’d actually had _fun_ last time they’d hung out, hell, Isaac even likes comic books. Besides, Isaac already knows about the lizard and werewolves and the whole basket of crazy that Stiles’ life has become. He curses to himself again and heads into the train yard with a new determination.

 

Stiles barely makes it ten steps into the train yard before Isaac is there, right up in his space with supernatural speed, and more than partially wolfed out.

 

“Jesus _Chriiist_!” Stiles gasps, heart rabbiting in his chest. He backs away from Isaac slowly, arms stretched out in front of him as if showing his palms will pacify the wolf like they would a dog. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the act but is too busy trying not to hyperventilate and further anger Isaac, whose mouth is already full of fang. When Isaac growls in response, it’s an exasperated sound rather than an angry one. His claws shrink back to more human nails in order to grab Stiles’ shirt and yank him until he is tucked safely behind Isaac and against the wall.

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Isaac snarls as he crouches and scans the room, sniffing the air and head tilting to the side as if he is trying to listen for something. “Has the Kanima come back?! _Fuck_ , Derek… Derek just left…He’s not here” Isaac is hissing quietly at him, still scanning the cabin and oblivious to Stiles’ incredulous face behind him. Stiles’ panic subsides as quickly as it came when he realises that Isaac isn’t trying to maim or kill him, but instead is trying to protect him from suspected danger. He lets out the breath he was holding in one long, relieved puff and wipes off the sweat that had prickled on his brow with the back of his hand.

 

“Oh thank you sweet, merciful God,” he babbles in relief and Isaac throws him a look over his shoulder, eyes still burning golden and posture tense and ready for action. “Fuck! Wait, no. _No_! The Kanima isn’t here. It’s safe! No giant lizard thing,” Stiles bursts out in sudden realisation. _Fuck_. This is embarrassing. Of course Isaac is going to suspect something dangerous when Stiles marches over here late at night. Isaac’s eyes turn back to blue and his fangs retract slowly, he lifts an accusatory eyebrow at Stiles and turns to face him properly. Stiles realises he is still clutching at the wall as if his life depends on it and corrects himself, letting out an awkward cough. “Sorry man, I didn’t mean to…Everything’s fine… I just,” Stiles starts and Isaac glares harder at him. He shifts his weight from one foot to his other, cursing himself for even considering coming over here. “I’ll just go…yeah, sorry,” he manages to squeak out before trying to edge past Isaac. Isaac stops glaring then, sniffing the air with a thoughtful frown.

 

“You’re wet,” Isaac observes, frown deepening. Stiles stares dumbly at him for a second, completely thrown by the words and what Isaac does next stumps him even further. Isaac blushes. He freaking _blushes_. “I mean, you’re still damp!” Isaac adds quickly and Stiles’ brain finally catches up with him and he just laughs. He laughs loud and disbelieving, because Isaac had thought that Stiles was looking dumbfounded because what Isaac had said had sounded _dirty,_ when really, Stiles was dumbfounded because he had spent the whole entirety of this night dumbfounded.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles laughs out and rakes a hand over his buzz cut. Because, well, Fuck. This day has been a joke on so many levels and he is feeling a little hysterical. However, Isaac apparently isn’t. The blush that had decorated his face has been swiped off and replaced with a superior, snooty look.

 

“What do you want here Stiles? Little dangerous to keep wondering into the Wolf den, don’t you think?” Isaac drawls. If Stiles wasn’t so tired and hysterical, it would be _his_ turn to blush and be embarrassed but he’s far too past all of that.

 

“Yeah, yeah, just call me Goldilocks. I’m assuming Derek has told you about the shit show that went down tonight?” Stiles starts, pausing briefly for Isaac to nod affirmative. “Good. Well I came here to talk about it, but if you’re going to be a douche about this, just tell me now ‘cause I already ditched Scott tonight for being a douche and I’m not up for a repeat performance,” he finishes, voice firm and sure. It takes a long minute for the snooty look to fall from Isaac’s face and he raises his eyebrow again; inquisitive this time.

 

“Why was Scott a douche?” his voice is gentler this time and his body relaxes. A voice in the back on Stiles’ head cheers that Isaac has managed to become comfortable around him so quickly and once again he feels proud of himself for making the effort to reach out to Isaac. At the very least, it’s paid off to have someone to bitch to aside from Scott. He shoots Isaac a smile as he follows him into the cabin slash make-shift bedroom and gratefully accepts the towel Isaac offers.

 

“Ugh, it’s long story. I’m assuming Derek opened up his communication lines long enough to tell you that, when he got your little were-buddy Erica to drag me to the school pool so he could interrogate me, the Kanima came and attacked us,” Stiles begins, his talking picking up pace until he is on full on rant-mode. “So after being _oh–so-nicely_ interrogated by your alpha, I had to support his stupid ass in the water for _hours_ while he was paralysed - and Derek? He may be ripped, but he isn’t a lightweight, I tell you that. You know what else Derek isn’t? A people person. I mean really, you’d think we’d evolved past using physical violence every time someone doesn’t comply to our every whim,” Stiles’ mouth runs away from him before he can really clock what he is saying and as soon as he remembers who exactly he is talking to, he is mortified. He wants to smack himself in the face. Is he really complaining about Derek’s surly nature to a boy that used to get beaten to shit by his own father? Stiles tries to refrain from looking horrified and forces his face to remain neutral but Isaac isn’t looking at him anymore, anyway. Isaac’s eyes are fixed on the frayed hem of his Henley and he plays with the same loose thread that he did last time Stiles spoke to him. “Shit, I’m sorry man”.

 

“It’s cool,” Isaac says gently, still avoiding any eye contact. “Derek doesn’t like to be disobeyed,” he adds, voice forced even and Stiles’ stomach drops. Isaac may be trying to sound calm and chilled but something about it makes Stiles want to be sick. Really _fucking_ sick. He takes a calming breath and shakes himself of the feeling, hoping it’s just frayed nerves and left over adrenaline making him overreact but he feels there is so much more behind what Isaac is saying. 

 

“...Is Derek like that with you too, or just us? I guess I’d figured, you being pack and everything…” Stiles trails off, letting Isaac infer the rest. He moves to sit next to Isaac slowly. Any previous level of comfort Isaac had disappears in a flash. He is tense again and his eyes widen in fright as Stiles moves towards him. Stiles stops and retreats back, opting to sit opposite him instead.  “Sorry, sorry,” he says gently.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant you lot. Derek’s been good to me. He took me in after all when no one else ever would want to,” Isaac corrects quickly and Stiles can almost taste the fear radiate off him. Isaac must notice the worried look on Stiles’ face because suddenly he looks calm and controlled again. “I just meant that you and Scott do tend to wind him up,” He jokes with a little laugh. “Speaking of Scott, what’s he done to be a douche? Thought you guys were best friends?” Isaac adds, leaning forward in his chair to show his interest. It’s convincing. _Really_ convincing.  Stiles can see how Isaac managed to keep the abuse secret all these years. The sick feeling is back in Stiles’ stomach but he realises that now isn’t the time to press Isaac on the matter. If he wants to ever gain Isaac’s trust, he can’t frighten him off. Stiles is suddenly flooded with just how much he _does_ want Isaac to trust him. Trust him enough to open up to him. It’s probably a bit pathetic considering how little he has ever even spoken to the boy, but there’s no denying it now. Not when he’s trekked to the train yard, by foot, in the middle of the night, just to talk to Isaac.

 

“Yeah, he is my best friend and don’t get me wrong, I love the idiot, but ‘Scott-in-love’ doesn’t exactly stick to bro-code. I was doing his dirty work tonight, trying to help him and when I called him for help, he hung up on me,” Stiles replies, allowing Isaac to change the subject. Relief is blaringly obvious in Isaac’s face and Stiles notes that he stops playing with the threads of his Henley. Well, at least that’s a win.

 

“Derek said he rescued you guys?” Isaac asks with a confused little frown that Stiles decides is a _much_ better look on him than relief or fear or panic.

 

“Oh he did. Nearly an hour later,” Stiles scoffs and Isaac raises his eyebrows in shock.

 

“He didn’t come for an _hour_? When he knew the Kanima could have killed you?” Isaac’s voice is appalled.

 

“Well… not exactly. When he hung up on me, it was straight away, so I didn’t actually get to say that we were in trouble,” Stiles answers sheepishly, feeling immensely petty but Isaac doesn’t comment or call him out on it. “I know it’s petty and ridiculous. It’s just…Ugh. It used to be just me and Scott y’know? We were always doing _everything_ together and then Allison comes along and this werewolf shit. And it’s just like if I ever want to hang out with him, either Allison tags along or all he talks about is Allison. And I get it. I do; He’s loved up. But it’s like he doesn’t even realise that he’s dragged me into this shit with him and I don’t even get a thank you when I save his ass repeatedly and I don’t get anything in return,” Stiles is rambling again and he stops to apologise but Isaac is still leaning forward, elbows on his knees and face resting in his hands and he actually looks _interested_. Stiles knows it could be just part of Isaac’s act, but he hopes it isn't because it feels really good for someone to be listening to _him_ for once.

 

“All take and no give, you mean? The puppy love will wear off eventually, don’t worry,” Isaac offers as if he is a master on the subject when really, Stiles knows Isaac hasn’t had many friends, if any. He nods anyway.

 

“You’re right, I know. And it’s petty to complain, ‘cause Scott has been really good to me over the years. I just don’t think he gets that I’m human and I can’t take all this werewolf danger as well as him. I’m going to start getting adrenaline sickness or something soon,” Stiles finishes, feeling the anger and stress drain out of his pores. Isaac is hesitant when he next speaks.

 

“I think you’re right, Stiles. I heard. You know, about the mechanic? I’m sorry you had to see that”. Stiles blinks at him slowly, images of his jeep lowering steadily and the guy struggling flashing behind his closed lids. His palms feel sweaty and he rubs them against the fabric of the chair. He swallows thickly and his eyes dart to the side, away from Isaac’s.

 

“Yeah. I still haven’t got my jeep back yet, and my jeep is my _baby_! If they’ve hurt it, there’ll be hell to pay” he jokes with a wide grin but Isaac is still just staring straight at him as if he can see right through the smile and the jokes. Stiles supposes that it’s easier to see through someone’s act when you put the same act on yourself. “Seriously, it’s just been a long shitty day and I thought I’d have my go at the dramatics,” he continues but Isaac remains completely unconvinced. He wonders if he’s gotten worse at lying or whether Isaac is just better at this than the others. He sighs deeply and feels his body slump even lower in the chair. “I couldn’t do anything about it, I couldn’t even _move._ I didn’t know if it was going to come for me next or _anything_ ,” Stiles whispers.

 

“It’s okay that you couldn’t do anything. No one would have been able to stop it, Stiles,” Isaac soothes. Stiles snorts.

 

“ _Scott_ would have been able to! Or _you_ or _Derek_. I’m literally a human running with wolves here. I’m useless,” Stiles can tell that Isaac is listening to his heartbeat and that he frowns when it doesn’t skip a beat. He knows Stiles means this, that he really believes this.

 

“You do a lot more than you think. You saved Derek’s life today Stiles. Even Derek acknowledged that,” Isaac speaks slowly, each syllable firm and enunciated as if it will make Stiles believe him. They’re both silent for a minute and Stiles is shocked at how comfortable with the silence he is. He takes a deep breath and looks around the cabin and out of the window at the early morning light.

 

“You’re nice you know,” he blurts out suddenly. Isaac looks amused. “Okay, weird thing to say, but you’re a good guy. It sucks that you’re in such a crap situation,” he persists. Isaacs smile is tinged with bitterness.

 

“Yeah, well…” he shrugs.

 

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Stiles adds uselessly. Then he remembers how Isaac had earlier suggested that no one would ever want to take him in and the ominous thing he had mentioned about Derek. “It really sucks, cause if you weren’t a fugitive and my dad wasn’t, you know, the Sheriff - which really don’t gel well together – you could stay with us. I could pull out the air-bed and I’d have someone to play x-box with again,” he says with a smile, stretching his leg out to knock his foot against Isaac’s ankle. Isaac’s head snaps up to look at Stiles properly and he smiles; a quick upward quirk of his lips. When he looks down again, the blush that had been on his face earlier is back and shit, Stiles might like this look on him more than he should. Stiles lets out a giggle and then blushes himself at the sound. “I’m serious man. You should sort this fugitive thing out. All they have on you is Jackson’s word and that isn’t going to hold up for long, this will be sorted out in no time”.

 

“You think?” Isaac’s crooked smile is back and he has cocked his head to the side. Stiles grins and nods in return. Birds have started chirping outside now and Stiles yawns wide.

 

“My dad is going to be home soon. I’d better go,” he groans, stretching in his chair and folding the towel that had been draped around his shoulders. He spots Isaac’s phone on top of a pile of clothes in the corner and gestures towards it. “Take my number dude. That way you can let me know if you need anything,” he suggests amicably. “You know, like more towels or food…or comics!” Isaac looks curiously at Stiles for a second. Stiles bites his lip and looks around the cabin awkwardly. Had that sounded strange? Like a come-on or something? Before his thoughts manage to reel off properly, Isaac interrupts them by grabbing his phone.

 

“Well, if you’re offering comics!” he jokes. Stiles punches his number in and returns the phone with a grin.

 

“Well, thanks for listening to my bitching session, man. It was very fourteen-year-old girl of me. Let me know if I can ever return the favour,” he says before heading out of the cabin. He pauses at the doorway and looks over his shoulder. “But if you ever need to chat about anything or need help or anything, let me know,” he adds softly, his face serious. Isaac seems to understand that Stiles is referring to his earlier comment about Derek and his fingers find the thread on his Henley again. Stiles follows the action with his eyes and flinches internally. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. He gives a little wave and then walks out.

 

On the way home Stiles smiles to himself. He got Isaac to laugh and smile again tonight. Somehow he feels more useful for that, than he did the entire time he was supporting Derek in the pool. Maybe that is a ridiculous thought but it’s the truth. He doesn’t _dare_ analyse it. 


End file.
